The Lemon Twigs – ‘A Dream Is All We Know’ album review: The best songs Brian Wilson never wrote

The Lemon Twigs - 'A Dream Is All We Know'
4.5

THE SKINNY: If you look at things philosophically, then The Lemon Twigs present a peculiar problem with their new album, A Dream Is All We Know. Is it retrogressive and unoriginal to cook up a rotation of Baroque pop songs that you could seamlessly slip into a shuffled playlist of The Beach Boys and The Move and only audiophiles would notice? Or is it paradoxically forward-thinking to fixate on golden years while the rest of the alternative scene is scrapping for something new, sometimes to the detriment of their sound?

This predicament is one that only exists on paper. When you’re actually listening to the record, you can’t help but come to the happy conclusion that Pet Sounds is one of the greatest albums of all time, and now we have a worthy part two. The Lemon Twigs escape the footsteps of their inspirations by showcasing a musical understanding unrivalled by any band today — stunning performances and songs that Brian Wilson perhaps could’ve written, but very importantly, he didn’t. This elevates the album from homage to a beautifully chic, retrofied modern masterpiece.

A Dream Is All We Know lulls you with a doo-wop dreaminess, embalms you with a richly textured Barqoue soundscape, and stirs your imagination with an array of compositional quirks. Funky jazz chords are thrown in to subvert the familiar throughout, and there’s a collision of poetry, humorous irony, and simple joy in the distinctively Jonathan Richman-like lyrics. Perhaps the pinnacle, however, lies in the vocal harmonies that the D’Addario brothers chirp out alongside their now consistent rhythm section of Danny Ayala and Reza Matin.

It is a firm and fully realised album executed with certainty. It might not be absolutely perfect, but overall, the stunning performances eclipse any blemishes. Alas, ironically, The Lemon Twigs’ greatest triumph this time out is that they’ve created an album that there is really nothing like. It might sound like The Beach Boys, but it’s The Beach Boys revisited over half a century after the event by two maestros with plenty of their own tricks and influences to brandish as embellishments. The result is something that will occupy its own space in your record collection, one that will be continually unsheathed when you’re in the mood for the summery sanguinity that the album offers.


For fans of: Walking around town in flares and rose-tinted shades that transfigure spat out phlegm into street oysters.

A concluding comment from Jeff ‘The Dude’ Lebowski: Fuckin’ ay man! The Lemon Twigs abide.


A Dream Is All We Know track by track:

Release date: May 3rd | Producer: The Lemon Twigs and Sean Ono Lennon | Label: Captured Tracks

‘My Golden Years’: A wavering anthem that takes a cliched title and runs it through the ringer of soaring key changes, layered instrumentation, and an inherent sense of nostalgia. [4/5]

‘They Don’t Know How to Fall in Place’: The topline melody is excitably all over the shop like a Squirrel in a Snickers factory, and the whole thing feels like a shuffled series of middle eighths. A very peculiar single choice, as it’s the record’s messiest cut. [2.5/5]

‘Church Bells’: A muted acoustic 12-string tone creates a more withdrawn sound-bed than the rest of the record, but this is flooded with a smorgasbord of little solos, random strings, bridges, and odd patches of dissonance. There’s a lot going on, and it all proves captivating. [4/5]

‘A Dream Is All I Know’: As this track follows the album’s modus operandi of refraining from a typical verse-chorus structure, there comes a point where you happily realise, ‘Bloody hell, I haven’t thought about the weight of the world for a whole ten minutes’. That’s a brilliant realisation and serves as an apt encapsulation of what the album is all about. [4/5]

‘Sweet Vibration’: Perhaps the most Beach Boys track on a heavily Beach Boys-inspired record. It’s a track that joyously celebrates finding your place in the world, and looks forward to settling down. [4.5/5]

‘In the Eyes of the Girl’: Perhaps the second most Beach Boys track on a heavily Beach Boys-inspired album. A barbershop backing and stunning lead vocal performance almost distract for an utterly sublime melody. This is perhaps the best song Brian Wilson never wrote. [5/5]

‘If You and I Are Not Wise’: “Was I birthed in vain,” is a lyric that epitomises the wry comedy that gives The Lemon Twigs a quirky edge and enigmatic personality to peruse over. However, any musing over the mystic ways of the brothers is quickly eschewed by a stunningly catchy chorus. [4.5/5]

‘How Can I Love Her More’: Sweetness, sanguinity, and just a hint of something slightly sinister are offered up with performative aplomb, crafting a cracking soundtrack to the summer. Horns provide a background, while Pet Sounds-styled layering blurs the keys and modality, creating something that is seamlessly catchy. Further exemplifying their compositional mastery is a middle eight that adds intrigue to the weeping melody. [5/5]

‘Ember Days’: A cut that wouldn’t have been out of place on their previous album, Everything Harmony. There’s an avant-folk feel to ‘Ember Days’ as peculiar chords are plucked up in a way that somehow makes dissonance luscious. The track’s bizarre cavorting contours give it effortless motion, like flying over Central Park in a dream. [4.5/5]

‘Peppermint Roses’: A more acid-rock-inspired track channels Turkish tonality as the brothers experiment with oscillating modalities and ask Lennon-like questions like, “Who am I supposed to be?” It’s funky, but its jarring journey might grate on a few. [3/5]

‘I Should’ve Known Right From the Start’: A finger-plucked melody provides the chance for perhaps the album’s finest lyricism to rise to the fore. The vocals are high enough to make a dachshund yelp, but you’ve got to admire the band for really going for it. [4/5]

‘Rock On (Over and Over)’: Caution is thrown to the wind for a closing crescendo that sounds like Brian Wilson fronting Slade. The 1960s are a spell of art worth celebrating, and The Lemon Twigs do it in such a superb way here that it feels gloriously fulfilling and like a much-needed journey away from the heavy present. Not the most complex cut, and some could call it cheesy, but just lighten-up, dude. [4/5]

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